Children, Poetry, and a Cup of Tea

I'm not sure why they're here, but I see little elementary kids walking around on campus almost every day.

Last week I saw a whole line of them pass by in the hallway as I waited for my ten o' clock math class. They quietly followed the teacher three times their size and six times their age, some with their eyes glued to the feet in front of them, lining themselves perfectly in step, others with folded arms and big, wondering eyes. One little boy with a blue t-shirt stopped in the line and protested to the children in front of him, "It's not that way!" When he saw them all filing through a door held open by their teacher, he realized his mistake and hurried back to his place in line, slightly embarrassed. The boy behind him followed un-fazed, chewing on his shirt collar.

Ah. Youth.

Actually, I've been thinking a lot about childhood lately. Mostly in light of the personal essay I've been working on for my English class, but also because...actually...I think that's probably it. Hm. Well that explains it then. Creative projects always seem to find their way into one's daily activities.

Speaking of English class, wanna hear some feedback from my English teacher on my final poetry project? (Rhetorical.) Of my piece Sue Elle's Aunt Margaret he said, "Remarkably good final stanza. I read that one and I thought, here is some fine poetry, so I read it out loud to wife. That good stuff because it is vivid and it plays with the contrast that you set up. (sic)" A comment on my least favorite poem Tangled Up; "I do, given the class, appreciate the fact that you immediately set up and engaging situation and draw me as a reader. (sic)". And of the project as a whole he said, "It was nice to read some poems that worked very hard to create vivid images and to allow those images to stand on their own. I hope you continue to write poetry. Your talent shows through in these poems."

Just to change the subject one more time, I have a random story for you.

A few days ago I switched my Google language to English (UK) and I just freaked out for like ten minutes because my spell check just told me I spelled "favorite" and "math" wrong. I also found the red squiggly line under "english" ironic, but after capitalizing the 'E' all was well again.

Moral of the story: trust the slobber-shirt kid, Emilyn's poetry is wife-reading worthy, and any Britain's favourite English word is "Mathematics".



p.s. I can't remember how to change the language back. Blast.

Oh, and feel free to feed the fish on the sidebar. So much entertainment. Cheerio!